Dritëro Agolli Poems

I remember the words that my grandfather spoke,
When we went for a walk in the white, silent snow:
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Like a title the moon hovers over the meadow,
Like a title that rises from a poem of love,
And in such a fair meadow did I once stand waiting,
I patiently hoped that you'd come with me, too...
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A cane, be it smooth, be it bumpy and knotty,
Some use for a blind man it always accords,
It's good for the lame, burdened down by their journey,
And handy for folk when attacked by the hordes.
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You say that I've written too much about cows,
And of grain in the fields I have penned too much verse.
So what? You have butter and milk in the morning,
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Shume njerez ka qethur berberi ne jeten e gjate
atje ne floktoren e ktheses se ruges NAIMI
shume vdiqen fatmire a te ngrate
shume u vrane ,u burgosen dhe jeten u mori mergimi.
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Më dhimsesh qen i vogël!S'pate fat,
Të ktheheshe në oborrin e shtëpisë...
U shtrive i përgjakur mbi asfalt,
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What's all the uproar?
we can sit in the kitchen;
The food smells good, we won't go hungry;
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'You who leave your first hearth,
Do you know that it burns with
fiery nostalgia?'
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We had no time to write of love
Though we were impetuous lovers,
The country needed songs of freedom,
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Under his nails the dirt was dark blue,
Dirt from the fields and meadows,
Blue like the lines on the globe,
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